


Marshmallows and S'mores

by ConfessionForAnotherTime



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 14:33:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2273361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConfessionForAnotherTime/pseuds/ConfessionForAnotherTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons and Grif go camping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marshmallows and S'mores

“Are you sure we packed everything we need?”

“Yes, Grif, I am certain we have everything we could need and about forty different things we don’t need. At least you left your sister at home this time. Last time was supposed to just be us and you brought her along.”

“My sister is awesome when she isn’t embarrassing,” Grif shot back, stuffing another bag of marshmallows into the grocery bag before loading it into the back of their Jeep.

“Do we really need four bags of marshmallows? You’re just going to eat them all before we roast them.” Simmons sighed as he climbed into the driver’s seat, the Jeep lowering further under the weight of them and their gear once Grif climbed in as well. 

“Well, last time, we brought two. You bitched the entire trip because we didn’t have any to roast.” Grif popped a marshmallow into his mouth as the Jeep started up, the gravel crunching under the tires.

“Because you ate them all on the way here.”

“No. SISTER and I ate two bags on the way here. We always eat a bag of marshmallows on the way out camping. It’s tradition.”

“You just stuffed four bags of marshmallows in back, AND you have a bag in your hand right now. At this rate, you’re going to turn into a marshmallow.”

“You’re a marshmallow.”

“Excellent comeback,” Simmons said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. 

“So instead you’re going to be sarcastic as opposed to complaining. Can I still stay home?”

“No,” Simmons replied as he turned down a winding road, “we’ve already left, and I’m not going back this time.”

“Fine.” Grif popped another three marshmallows into his mouth, refusing to look at Simmons.

\---

“This is taking so much longer than it did last time,” Grif whined as he gathered the piles for the tent, staring confusedly at the directions.

“So far, it’s actually taken less time because your sister isn’t here distracting you and you’re actually helping this time.” Simmons held a hand out for Grif to pass him the directions. “Here, how about you go grab firewood and kindling to get it started. I’ll finish with this.”

“That sounds like work.”

“Do you want to put this thing together?”

“No.”

“Then go gather firewood.”

“I don’t want to do that either.”

“Then we won’t have a campfire to roast marshmallows on.”

“Fiiiiine.”

\---

Grif took his time bundling sticks and wood, bringing back bundles here and there. He found it was easiest to get larger pieces, but Simmons reminded him that the pieces would need to be smaller to fit into the pit he had started once the tent had been pitched. By the time Grif had gathered enough wood, Simmons had the text set up, the air mattress filled and some of the firewood had already started being burned as the sun started to set. Grif left what else he had brought back in a pile, tossing it aside to rummage through one of the food bags in search of Oreos. 

“Griiiif! Now that you’re back, I was going to start dinner,” Simmons whined, slapping his hands away.

“Are you kidding me? I go and gather firewood and I don’t even get to have Oreos?”

“No. Grab the hot dogs out of the cooler. I’m getting the skewers.”

“Fiiiiiiiine.”

“Don’t you ‘fiiiiine’ me. Just do it. We’ll both be eating sooner if you do.”

Grif grabbed the hot dogs out of the cooler, opening the package and skewering two hot dogs for each of them once Simmons handed over the skewers. They sat in silence as the dogs cooked, busying themselves with crosswords and handheld gaming systems. Simmons handed Grif a paper plate before too long, handing over buns moments after. They ate in silence as well, shifting on the thick log they had rolled over to sit on. Simmons grabbed a wet rag, cleaning off the skewers before piercing four marshmallows a piece for each of them. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What huh? Why?” Simmons asked as he pulled the marshmallows from the bag.

“I’ve been an ass this whole trip. You planned this so we could have some time together for once and all I’ve done is complain, so sorry for that.”

“Ya know,” Simmons said, handing a skewer over to Grif, “it didn’t seem much different than how you acted normally.”

“Come here,” Grif motioned, patting the spot on the log next to him. Simmons scooted over, leaning onto Grif as his arm wrapped around his shoulder. Grif left a kiss on top of Simmons’ head, extending his other arm to cook the marshmallows further down on the skewer.

“Hey Grif?” Simmons asked, blowing on the too hot marshmallows fresh from the fire.

“Yeah?”

“Is now a bad time to tell you I forgot everything else we would need to make s’mores?” 

“It’s fiiiiiine.”


End file.
